The Black Sheep
by alyssialui
Summary: Isn't it ironic that the Black family has a Black sheep that was actually White? One-shot of Regulus' opinion of his brother, Sirius.


_A/N: I know there are many Sirius/Regulus stories, but I thought I'd try one. This one takes place from Regulus' point of view right after Sirius has run away and before he was called to the Dark Lord._

_Submission for:_

_**The Classic Disney Movie Challenge!:** Brother Bear: write about brothers_  
_**The Animal Challenge/Competition:** Alligator: Aggression and survival. Write about a Death Eater. Alt, write about a Slytherin._

_Read and review. Check out my other fics. I do not own Harry Potter._

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The black sheep is one who goes against the norm, against the beliefs of the crowd and seems to stray from the herd. The black brings disgrace and shame to those who associate with him. Most times, the black sheep is choosing the wrong option, the one that will lead to hurt and hardship. In the Black household, the norm is evil. The norm is the practice of powerful, dark magic. The norm is to follow the pureblood beliefs, to snuff out all deemed impure and unfit to control magic.

Sirius, the first born son of the most noble house of Black, is the black sheep. He chooses to go against the norm. He chooses to associate with blood traitors, half-bloods and mudbloods. He chooses to believe that all are equal. He is unfit to bear the Black name. It is a good thing he has left, all the more easy to burn him off the family tree. Mother had taken great pleasure in doing it.

Mother and Father pretend he never existed. No one speaks of him, his place is no longer set at the table, his room is closed off and most of his things are burned. If he is no longer here, there is no more black sheep and they can say that their herd has always been white, always been pure. This is the way we live. This is the way to survive.

I have earned his birthright they say. It is a big honour, to shoulder all of the Black name and bring us to glory, and I am well deserving for I have been the perfect son. I have become all they wished I would be. My cousins are always jealous when they see me, even though they are all older than me. Being a Black son is better than being a Black daughter.

Looking in the bathroom mirror now, I see him in me. They always said we looked alike, he was only about a year older than me. We were the same until he got sorted into Gryffindor. Then we were nothing alike and no one wanted anything to do with him. I didn't understand until I was sorted into Slytherin. That put me on this path towards the greater good Mother and Father talk about, the path he walked away from. I thought he was a fool for upsetting Mother, for straying from the herd. That's when I started to hate him.

There is a man out there who is willing to take all the talk of eradicating impurities and make it a reality. He is amassing an army of followers and many purebloods are joining his cause. Mother and Father say it is another great honour to be a part of this movement. Cousin Bellatrix has already been indoctrinated. As the future head of the Black household, it is precedent that I join as well. I must take an active hand in exacting the removal of scum off the earth, by any means necessary.

My hand slips off the edge of the sink but I catch myself before falling forward. Thinking of emhim/em just makes me sick to my stomach. I had always wanted to make my family proud. I had always wanted to be amazing, to know anything and everything about magic, light or dark. I always wanted power. I had always wanted to be the loved child and I was happy when Sirius had left. I never wanted to kill anyone. I never wanted anyone hurt at my hands.

I punch the mirror and it cracks a little under my fist. My knuckles are now bloody from the small bits of glass embedded in the thin skin but I don't care. He left me with this burden. He left me to be the chosen one. He left me to be a murderer. He left me after he promised he wouldn't, before all this madness happened. He strayed from the herd and left me no option to do so. I hate that he got out when he could.

I run my knuckles under the faucet and it dulls the pain a little. I cup my hands and splash some water on my face and take a few deep breaths. I need to regain my cool before I walk back out there. It is not proper for a Black to look unkempt or unprepared. I pause to stare into the mirror one more time. Mother will not be pleased to see the mirror but that's the house-elves problem. The spiders radiate from where I had broken it and cut across my reflection but I can still see perfectly. My hair which was slicked back has become damp and falls around my face. My eyes meet the grey eyes in the mirror and they remind me of someone else's. They always said we looked alike, we were the same on the outside. Maybe we were always the same on the inside.


End file.
